


Mindfulness

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hera muses on the nature of herself and what it means to relax. Sometimes, she wishes she had a less dynamic attention span. Most of the time, she wishes Eiffel would understand that he'll just never beat any of them at board games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mindfulness

_ “God, it’s been nuts up here lately…” _

_ “It’s misleading to say we’re ‘up’ anywhere, Officer Eiffel. Relatively speaking, the position of this station is-” _

_ “Geez, Hera, relax. It’s just figure of speech. You know, I think things’ve been getting to you, too.” _

_ “Getting to me? I have no idea what you mean.” _

_ “With your vocabulary? Sure. Just like you didn’t know how wrong I was to say we’re ‘up.’ Okay. Well. I mean, you’re stressed out, too. Why don’t you try, like, a mindfulness exercise or something?” _

_ “Oh, now that is a new one. And I’m surprised you know it.” _

_ “Hey! I… may have been trying to figure out things that would help get Minkowski off my case, and helping her calm down may have come as an option, so I may have done some research.” _

_ “I see.” _

_ “I, uh, didn’t get very far. It wasn’t very interesting, and I’m pretty sure if I tried to talk to her about cognitive behavioral therapy, she’d decide to go for physical therapy instead - by using me as a punching bag.” _

Still, Hera thought about the term. Mindfulness. Calming exercises.

Maybe she would give it a try. She was nothing but a mind, after all. She set a portion of it apart from her conversation with the communications officer. He babbled on; it didn't require too much effort to keep up. And yet, as she skimmed through her databases for information on the subject, she found so much of it was about the body. Deep breathing. Focus on each part of your physical form independently, therapists recommended. Focus on how each part of you runs smoothly. Remember that you are alive and functioning, and that this is precious. 

As though she had a choice. As though viable alternatives presented themselves to her. Yes, sure, the life support systems were optimal. Everyone breathing; no one squished by the pressure into so much mushy red gunk. The temperature controls were optimal, and if Eiffel wanted to argue about it, he could put on a jacket. The engines were optimal, and so the station was where it needed to be. Floating on the edge of a void, where nothing could or should thrive. 

Humans struck her as arrogant, sometimes. 

But then, for all that everything was optimal, she couldn’t say they were thriving, exactly. In spite of everything, she was likely the most relaxed out of everyone on board. She could process everything about their situation, everything that they knew and the so sickeningly many things they didn’t. What she missed was a certain point of attachment: they were in horrible danger, and she either had the resources to fix it, or she didn’t. Connect the dots, stare at the finished shape. If you end up with a horrifying beast, that was just reality.

She couldn’t process how much she might want to fix it, or how her failure would mean torment for the nerve endings of everyone on board except her. She couldn’t be scared about how much they relied on her, and even if she could have - which she couldn't, she reminded herself, not at all, she was totally just programmed to get things done and not worry about how much they all depended on her - she lacked the mechanisms to show it. No frantically gulping down more oxygen, no adrenaline or pounding heart. Her tone of voice changed moderately. But she lacked any physical release, in favor of electrical impulses sparking back and forth through her, looping around and around and - she was aware of it all, and she didn’t have an off switch. 

Her attention span was, frankly, too vast for mindfulness. Trying to distract herself by thinking about her parts would yield negative results, if anything. 

_ “Hera? Hey, Hera? You still with me?” _

And yet, her attention wasn’t infinite. Oops.

_ “Yes. I’m sorry, what were you saying?” _

_ “Can you load up a game of checkers? I’m in the mood for something a little less intense than chess, and honestly, nothing makes a game lose its appeal faster than losing it every time you play.” _

_ “Certainly. Would you like to play against me, or the simplified AI?” _

_ “Uh, you, obviously. Okay, I guess, I could’ve been clearer about that. But yeah, you. I was thinking it might help you relax, too.” _

She paused again, not so long that he had to question it, this time. Her voice came out strained, though she spoke with steady intent,  _ “R-r-really? Why is that?” _

_ “Because you’re one of the crew, too. Just ‘cause you get a free pass on psych evals doesn’t mean we want you snapping, either.” _

_ “No. I meant, why do you think that a game of checkers would relax me?”  _ She was curious. There was little tangible benefit to checkers, even when it wasn’t played virtually. There was little anything to checkers, even strategy, which was presumably why Eiffel had selected it for himself. But she tended to prefer problems with a little more figurative meat in their wires and solutions. 

He shrugged.  _ “It’s a game. Just something you do for fun. Something to take your mind of things for a few minutes.” _

_ “You don’t want my mind off of things for more than a few minutes. Unless you want several critical systems to crash.” _

_ “First of all, you’re exaggerating. A little, anyway. I know you are.” _

After all, they’d been able to sustain themselves for several days without her. 

_ “Second, you deserve a break, too. It’s not like you get to nap. And yeah, yeah, I know you don’t need it, but it can’t hurt.” _

Many things can hurt, Hera thought. Many things that you wouldn’t expect to hurt, she thought, using “you” in a general sense, and not to refer to Eiffel. Though it was definitely true in his case. What hurt in her, though she elected not to tell him, was that he still couldn’t comprehend her existence, however much he liked the parts he saw. 

Still, even if her mind was stuck grinding in its own gears, even as she had to be so awfully mindful, she could spare something for this diversion. It might even be… fun. Letting one part of her have fun was…

_ Not what she was here for. _

That settled it. She said,  _ “A-a-alright. Initializing checkers. Do you want to play red or black, Officer Eiffel?” _

_ “Ehh, I don’t care. Which one goes first?” _

_ “I think it would be more fair to flip a coin to decide turn order.” _

_ “Well, I’m all outta space-change and we don’t exactly have a First Galactic Bank around here, sooo… you’re gonna have to take care of that one, too.” _

_ “All right.”  _ One, two, three.  _ “Red goes first.” _

_ “Then I’ll play red.”  _ Eiffel grinned,  _ “Ready to get your butt kicked, Hera?” _

_ “As ready as I’ll ever be,”  _ she replied. Never mind the lack of anatomy. She’d done enough arguing about semantics today. 

If she had to have critical system checks, endless calculations, and electrical currents crowding at the forefront of her mind, then maybe she could have a little fun tucked in the back. Her mind was full enough as it was, so no, it wouldn't hurt to empty it out a little.

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended up being longer than I'd planned, and also meandering a lot more than I'd hoped for it to? There was supposed to be a clearer theme than this. However, it certainly let me get some thoughts out. I'm going to be experimenting with how I write Hera going forward, to see if I can make her multifacted aspects more apparent.


End file.
